Meaningful friction
or, the dark side of convenience
Despite what pretty much every advertisement tries to convince us of, convenience isn’t always the answer. We shouldn’t shun friction from our lives; it plays a vital role: it uncovers what’s meaningful in your life.
Many products we buy promise to make our lives easier. Usually they do. My dishwasher, washing machine, and robot vacuum were all great investments: they do the things I don’t enjoy. But marketing applies this effective argument-convenience-to just about everything. It’s a compelling argument and easy to fall for; I definitely do.
But despite convenience being a desirable trait, we shouldn’t let it into our lives without scrutiny. Friction has value. It helps us distinguish between what we deem worth our time and what we don’t. A glaring personal example is what search engines-especially with the addition of AI-did to me.
Throughout the day I’m bombarded with thoughts, many of which I want to follow up on: is this book any good?, what are the best albums by some artist?, do any of my coffee places have something nice in stock? Before I know it, I’m twenty minutes deep into a derailed expedition on the internet. Only after snapping out of it do I realize that, no, I didn’t really need that question answered.
I remember back in the old days1, if you had a question you’d have to look it up in an encyclopedia, perhaps even go out to the library. The internet, and search engines in particular, substantially lowered that barrier. All you had to do was fire up your trusty desktop, dial up to the internet, and you’d have your answer. Great! Of course, it didn’t stop there. Along came the smartphone, which put computers perpetually within arm’s reach. AI then went on to eliminate the need to visit sites entirely: now I can ask a question and simply get an answer. How convenient! But not without consequences.
Convenience, besides saving time, also lowers the barrier to entry for any activity, eliminating precious moments of pause in the process. It entices us toward operating on autopilot, often away from what is most meaningful. I get lost on the internet whilst my kids want my attention more often than I’d like to admit. Afterwards, I despise myself for letting a lifeless slab of technology drive a wedge between us.
Friction has the exact opposite effect. It forces us to stop and think: is this worth it? Do I want to do this? If not, what should I do instead? It makes us intentional about our actions precisely because it demands effort. In a way, you can see friction as forceful mindfulness: it acts as a mental slap on the wrist when you’re about to take a wrong turn.
This perspective fascinates me. Things make a lot more sense seen this way. Take hobbies, for example. Hobbies, in general, are activities where we deliberately choose friction over convenience. They bring us joy, despite being anything but convenient.
One of my hobbies, for instance, is brewing craft coffee. By hand. Yes, even grinding the beans. My fully automatic coffee machine2 can do it with a fraction of the effort, with just the press of a button, but consider all I would miss out on. Coffee making has become a valuable ritual to me. From tinkering with the dosage and grind size down to the way I pour water over the coffee bed, the whole process, as well as the results I get from it, are intensely satisfying3.
Conversely, friction also uncovers what you don’t deem worth doing. For instance, although I deeply enjoy listening to music, I could never make playing an instrument stick. Whenever I had free time, I would consider practicing but quickly think ‘nah,’ only to move on to something else, like reading a book. Friction is like gravity: it naturally pulls you toward activities that spark joy and away from those that don’t.
Despite our society’s focus on convenience, don’t let yourself be fooled: there’s a lot to be gained by allowing friction into your life. It’s up to you to decide where you let it.